of his salvation, now in performing works of mercy, and again, in pleasant and instructive conversation with people of the same disposition. And this did not make him weak and pusillanimous, as some might be inclined to think, for he was strong-minded and of great power of will and endurance whenever any good work was to be done. Nor can he be suspected of doing it for the purpose of acquiring wealth; for, content with what was purely necessary for the support of life, he gave all he earned to the poor, trusting that God would not abandon him. His heart, strong and patient when dangers had to be met or adversity endured, could never regard the poverty and misery of his brethren without commiseration. The desire to be able to assist them in their afflictions and straits urged him to rise early, that he might have more time for work without interfering with his pious exercises.

These solid virtues are not acquired without great piety and a constant affection for prayer. Both of these were possessed in an eminent degree by our harnessmaker, who spent in the temple and in retirement the precious hours which others squander in miserable trifles and games prejudicial to their eternal salvation. How could he spend them better than in unbosoming himself to Jesus, that most faithful and constant friend, intercourse with whom never becomes wearisome, but grows sweeter and sweeter day by day? We are told in Holy Writ that happy is he who finds a true friend; and if so, what shall be the happiness of him who can claim the friendship of the Son of God? Has he doubts? His Friend's knowledge is without limits. Does he groan in destitution? His treasures are inexhaustible. Is he persecuted? His power is irresistible. What friend like Him, who, in spite of our ingratitude and errors, receives us back a thousand-and-one times to His grace the moment we repent? Who, like Him, is so dis

interested and generous that He rejoices in our friendship only that He may shower His benefits on us? Who so loving as to declare that He finds His delight in us, and in becoming our food and taking up His dwelling in our hearts that He may not be separated from us for one moment? And as true friendship supposes equality, in order to have us as friends He raised us at the cost of His blood to the dignity of the sons of God. How can this sovereign condescension be repaid except by flying from sin, the only thing which can break the bonds of a friendship so honourable? To tighten this friendship the more, Gualfard frequently treated with Jesus in prayer, and regularly received Him in the Holy Eucharist, from which he derived courage to despise the mockery of his companions and trample on the maxims of the world. Thus, in the midst of his toil, and in the exercise of his trade, in which he was very clever, our harnessmaker cultivated that which ennobles manvirtue-and made rapid progress in it. There was one thing which withdrew him more and more from the world. Considering one day the little confidence which can be placed in men, the instability of this miserable life, which a breath may extinguish, and the toils of the devil into which one may so easily fall, and avoid with such difficulty, and seeing his own weakness daily exposed to trial by the bad example of his companions, and the scandalous conduct of many with whom he had dealings, he thought of retiring to some solitude where he could freely reduce his noble thoughts to practice, uninterrupted by the traffic of the world.

II.

Not far from Verona, on the banks of the river Adige, there were dense solitary forests, where the woodman's hatchet was never heard, and which until then had been the dwelling-place of serpents and wild beasts. Thither went Gualfard, guided by his angel guardian; and without communicating his determination to anyone, there fixed his residence, anxious to dedicate himself to prayer and penance. The trees supplied him not only with abundant food for his frugal meals, but with boughs and branches to repair his little hut. He, however, cultivated, as much for recreation as through need, a little garden close to his dwelling. Twenty years after some boatmen were sailing on the river, enchanted by the picturesqueness and beauty of the woods, the songs of the birds, the purity of the air, and the delicious aroma shed by innumerable flowers, never dreaming that human being had his dwelling there. At last they discovered something like the form of a man, and landing, they went to explore the neighbourhood. They soon discovered a hut, surrounded by a well-cultivated garden. A cross formed of rude sticks, a few pious books, and some stone seats were the only furniture the hut contained. Then they went in search of the gardener, and found a man embrowned by the sun, and worn out by penance, with long and tangled beard and hair, and clothed in tatters. This was Gualfard. We know not how he spent his time, what lights he received from the Holy Ghost, what favours from heaven, or the conflicts he had to endure from man's mortal enemies. Undoubtedly he should have perished in that solitude unknown to the world if he had not been providentially discovered by the travellers. They asked him to go with them, and